


The Funny Farm [This Anger, Joni] (IED)

by rabbitoflion



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Depressed Harry, Depressing, Depression, Harry Styles - Freeform, Hospitalization, Hurt Harry Styles, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Instability, Mental Institutions, Neurological Disorders, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Sad, Sad Harry, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27941366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabbitoflion/pseuds/rabbitoflion
Summary: Just something canon to my alternate universe (This Anger, Joni or IED). Hope you like it!





	The Funny Farm [This Anger, Joni] (IED)

Before Harry was conveyed into the essential psychiatric hospital in London, he was nearly concluding his exasperation made him a headcase of barking madness, and merely deranged himself. He hadn’t known himself, it was almost like this feeling was endless; drifting in a void that simply produced more outcast with his surroundings, and himself. He hadn’t even understood what really made him infuriated, just that every little click of somebody’s facial expression pissed him off.

Before he was mandated by court to be transported into the mental hospital, he used up the interval of his time in a homely and contended cabin. Supervisors directed to watch over Harry, to repress his willingness to slice his wrists again, were obligated to ensure that he was getting healthy balanced three meals a day, drain his medication away into his stomach at relevant times throughout the tiresome days, and was asked a few comforting questions as well. Harry felt more secured since his new girlfriend, Alice, was there, and so was his father.

Alice occasionally slept with Harry in bed, and usually she was awake ahead of Harry to make the cabinhold breakfast. Alice would soothingly wake Harry by a mild rock on his arm by her hand, then a little kiss on the cheek or forehead to remind Harry he was loved dearly by her. The time spent in the cabin was conciliatory, and nothing really troubled Harry. He was emotionally volatile, and back at his relative’s home expounded his dangerous character that he feared.

He then priorly was a fuss; sweat from his hairline that trailed down to his crotch was evident, even though he was jittery from his cold state. His eyes bugged out of his head; he was manic, and seriously ill from his ketamine departure. His ADHD strung out through his system, causing him to be more hectic than he already was. 

“He is coming! I saw it, I saw him! I fucking saw HIM, and he is going to come for me because he HATES me!” Harry kept shouting words similar to that sentence, aiming to brainwash his family that Louis was indeed imminent to take Harry with him to Hell.

His then mother attempted a glass of water to Harry, but he seized her wrist, making her drop the glass and for it to shatter into minor pieces on the wood floor. 

“Harry, quit!” His step-father demanded in shock. Harry brushed off his father’s orders, and continued to stare down his mother with accursed eyes. Anne froze her body in fright, then he threw her body down to the floor, then seconds after being beaten by his inconsiderate father, a seizure writhed in him. His body shuddered brutally for some seconds, and more than five hours later, Harry found himself in court.

They commissioned Harry into a mental institution from harm to himself and others. Harry didn’t think too much upon that, all he wanted was to escape from everything that made him depressed and tempered. But before Harry was to be transitioned into the hospital, he spent his time in another hospital, where he was to be given involuntary treatment, checked up on every ten minutes by a sweet nurse, and made certain that he had not drawn out any plans to maltreat his poor, sick body.

And after nine days inside the hospital, it was time to be changed over into the mental facility, where they put away his shoes in a sealed container. They made him take off his belt that was fastened away, as well as his rings, socks, and necklace. Next, he was to speak with the head staff of his treatment, and how the facility operated. After that, he was observed in a shadowy room, where a lady staff examined his mind, mental disorders, and how he felt overall. Following high amounts of anxiety, his supervisor walked him to his room. Harry listened at the clicking of the nurse’s headquarters, paper printing, and the sounds of mumbled chatter from doctors.

Harry’s body was dense; he didn’t quite enjoy the very unusual building. It was out of the ordinary. Harry’s back jolted when his supervisor brushed her hand over his backside.

“Are you okay, Harry?” her voice considerately asked as she opened the door for the both of them. Her eyebrows were drawn in, “This is your room, your special place,” she said as Harry skimmed over the tiny room. The bed he was to sleep in had one pillow, all white sheets and appeared to be very hard to the touch. A navy blue chair was to the corner, and beside it was a door to a bathroom that was more teeny than the room itself as a whole. No windows were patented, and that was the entirety of Harry’s ‘specialized’ room.

His supervisor sat on the blue chair while Harry sat on the neat bed that was downy from the sheets. He glared at the floor until she spoke in the very muted room.

“How do you feel?”

It took some time for him to respond with, “I don’t know.”

“Do you feel anxious?”

Harry nodded, his eyes remaining at the floor.

“Do you feel sad?”

He nodded a second time, “I don’t want to be here,” he said after, slowly twiddling with his fingers. Harry did not take any joy in the atmosphere of the edifice. The colors chosen to compliment the building were incredibly bland, and the rules of the system felt austere to a great amount, it nearly frightened him. What if he did something that the rules outlawed? He sensed a higher amount of anxiety, uncertainty, and panic when overthinking if he wasn’t to behave in a good way. He sensed that he was a prisoner because he was insane, and he didn’t want to be.

“Listen, Harry. I understand that this is very new, and unusual, and possibly scary for you, but believe me that everything will be okay..”

He looked at her with weary eyes. Under his eyes were pink, his skin was dim in it’s hue, and he felt utterly weak; physically and mentally. He seemed beaten, and on his last legs.

“But I don’t want to be here,” Harry said again.

“I’m very sorry you don’t want to, but.. You cannot leave until the court says so. You do understand that you’re here to be taken care of, yes?”

He nodded, “Not that I want to live.”

She paused in outright sympathy for him, then he continued, “It’s not that I want to die.. It’s just.. I don’t want to live. Which doesn’t make any sense…” he trailed off his sentence, putting his head down in shame. His voice was low, weak and subtle and a few breaks came along with his tired tone.

“I’m so sorry you feel that way, Harry. It’s very normal to feel that way when you suffer from severe depression-” she took a hold of his cold hand, “-And I promise that you’re not alone in your internal suffering. I am here with you until you are released, and you are strong enough to get through this.”

He gently nodded, “I’ll report to your therapist,” she remarked with a small grin. She was almost out the door when she asked if he needed something.

“No. I’m okay. Thank you.”

She mentioned something, “Just to let you know, breakfast is in fifteen minutes. You know where to go to the cafeteria right?”

“Em, yeah. I have a map,” He turned his head over to the paper that was a guide to just crucial parts of the facility, and he lifted it by the underside of his fingers to show her.

“Oh, okay,” And she closed the door behind her, leaving Harry to study the little room. He noticed that there was nothing to tie into, and nothing that could be binded with. No glass in sight as there was no mirror in the bathroom. No cabinets were seen as of no drawers; nothing to preserve in. There was no metal, nor plastic nor any long objects. It impressed him a bit of how tedious they were with what they put in each patient’s room.

After sitting on the bed for an unknown time, Harry chose to brush his teeth before somebody banged on the door with a fist, calling to Harry that it was breakfast time. His heart raced as he put away the toothbrush, uneasiness clouded his stomach. It couldn’t come to his mind about what he was exactly anxious about, but he didn’t worry about it too much as he was already out of his room.

Later from getting a bit lost in hallways, a doctor escorted him to the nurse’s station where he then waited in line to soon get a watery cup of black coffee. After that, he propped against a wall grouped with plenty of patients that were doing the same as Harry, waiting to be paraded down to the cafeteria.

From five minutes of waiting with gurgling stomachs, the line of patients trailed down to the cafeteria, where Harry then felt a little more free. Immense windows were parted in threes, circulating a dim seven in the morning light into the large area. There were chairs situated at tables, and already Harry witnessed patients joyfully scarfing down their breakfast.

Harry was in line, getting the particular pancakes that were apparently menued on Saturdays. Harry held his foam tray out to the lady serving, but was shoved rudely by the person standing by him. Harry frowned at the patient in confusion, but she then fumbled in her words saying that it was him. She pointed and Harry looked.

Harry stepped back one since the unknown impolite patient’s shoving and frustrating voice was increasing. The man stared at Harry with freaky eyes, and then relentlessly pushed him down to the floor. The tray in Harry’s hands flew in the air. Harry’s head hid under a table as the man persisted to yell. Harry grimaced his face as the man carried on to shout curses, which overwhelmed Harry.

So much that Harry began to whine like an infant. A harsh cry whimpered out of Harry which caused stares from various patients. Tears filled on the lines of his eyes, he then cloaked his ears with his fingers to block out the man’s shouting that was fading out. From the intense emotions whirling in his stomach, Harry cried harder until a staff told him to stand.

“Nn..” Harry stood. His head jerked to the right while his fingers still dwelled on his ears. The lady then tried to take them off from his ears, but he snapped.

“No!” He moved his elbows to defend himself, “Nn.”

“Harry, do you want to go to your room?” She kneeled down where Harry stuffed his face between his knees. Every little sound was ringing on his ears, he was beginning to feel the heat on his head. His stare was ice, attempting to not attack.

But it was too uncontrollable. Harry growled. He stood to push the lady down, then he yelled with all of his lungs power. Out of his corner view, he spotted techs coming his way, which led for him to race to the nearest door. He desired to be alone, for not anyone to witness him having an episode that impulsed him to bite someone. His steps were hard, and just almost to the door, he was abruptly tackled by doctors from behind.

Harry then showed his teeth, shuffling his legs which caused an accidental kick in one doctor’s abdomen. 

“Take a hold of his arms!” And so they did, gripping his wrists then elevating his body from the ground. They took a hold of his feet next, and walked out of the door where Harry was wanting to rush out of. Harry kept fighting, trying to get loose from the doctor’s hands that were tight around his ankles and the inner side of his elbows.

“Fuck you! Get the FUCK off me! I- get off you fuckers! You fucking bastards! Get off, get off, get off!” Harry pursued to curse through the halls where he was brought into the quiet room. The staff threw his body in carelessly, but they didn’t flee away just yet. Harry’s eyes were tickled by his hair that flowed around his face. His belly was against the padded floor as the doctors wrapped a secure clothing onto him.

It folded his hands in his armpits, it was a straitjacket that wrenched on his crotch, and his arms. Then they bondaged a restraining part of the fit down at his feet, where he rolled over twice when they released their latch from his backside.

“NO! Don’t leave me here! No, no, no! NO! Please!” Harry shouted, then the padded door shut with a magnetic sound.

Harry was locked laying on his back, “No! Kill…” he huffed as he turned over to try to stand, but failed as he fell on his face, “I don’t- please let me out! Please! Please!”

Harry groaned then sneered at the white bolstered floor. He wobbled his body and his face then was viewed to the ceiling that blinded him from the lights, and he screamed. He tilted his head back, and continued to scream until the veins in his neck arrived, and until they appeared on his forehead. He pounced his feet into the air and turned another time to his left, “Someone! Please! Please!”

He was shifting his position frequently, until he was in the back right corner, yowling out, “Kill me!”

Eventually, his throat was pricking and burning from all of the previous yelling, that he was then bawling oceans of tears, that it soaked spots on the white outfit that tortured his arms, genitals and knees. Harry winced, raised his cheeks and swallowed a bunch. He sniffled, wept and was questioning his existence.

Why do I feel unloved?

Why am I like this?

I am not important. I never was.

No one really loves me. I’m alone.

The self destructive thoughts made him bawl more sharply until was completely debilitated he passed out with the lights- that deprived his vision- on. Soon, he awoke seeing nothing but blackness. He was acutely panicked, assuming they took him into a dangerous area where they would calmly molest him, but his bottom then felt the pillow-like material, and that the jacket was still enclosed around him. Headquarters had then called it nighttime while Harry was asleep.

Harry breathed fiercely, “Can someone let me out?” he called softly, then groaned at the painful thumping his head was receiving.

Harry tried again more softly with his eyes shut, “I don’t think I’m supposed to be in here,” he blinked his eyes, “Am I supposed to be out?”

Harry leaned his back against the wall. He remained tied up in uncomfortable clothing, then putting his chin on his knees. He reminisced of his earlier life, before the hospital, and how it made him feel. Undeniably depressing every day was, but he was more untrammelled with himself. It was not intimidating, and he doubted that he’d be capable of making it through every day in the facility. It was scary, but he didn’t want to go back to suffer horrendously while living with lethal drugs and sex forever. 

He felt everything, yet nothing at the same time. He was very overpowered with wounding emotions, that he commenced to cry once more. This time it wasn’t loud, but still he could feel his body not being able to cry since it was in outright weariness. He put his head further into his legs, where he could feel that his breath was hot. His mind was scrambling in unpleasant thoughts of death, being unloved and being alone.

Soon within hours of sustaining with dreadful thoughts, and feelings inside the quiet room, the lights turned on, making Harry jump. Two physicatrics crept open the door, one with a clipboard, and one with a teeny cup in their hands. Harry breathed unevenly when they approached closer, “Sorry..” Harry voiced lowley.

“What are you sorry for?” the Asian women spoke with a straight face, “What did you do?”

Harry was mute for a few seconds as he scanned their faces, “I was mad,” he shifted his body a bit. His legs were close to his torso as his back inclined to the corner of the cushion wall, “I was angry.”

She nodded, then bowed to Harry. They were face to face, “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” his eyes followed the other doctor who knelt down as well. 

“This is sertraline. It’ll help you with your OCD, anger and depression. Here, drink,” the male doctor spoke then raised the liquid medication to Harry’s lips. Harry submitted, and drank the candy flavored medicine.

“Do you feel the urge to hurt anyone?” the woman doctor asked with a pen in her hand.

“No, not really,” Harry’s voice was shallow and smooth.

“Do you feel the urge to hurt yourself?”

“They already know about this.”

She spoke, “Yes, but we need to ensure that you do not have the impulse to hurt anyone or yourself.”

“Well.. right now I don’t have the impulse to do any of those,” Harry was truthful, “Sometimes I do feel that I want to hurt myself. But, that’s only sometimes though, not all the time.”

She said a quick okay, and scribbled down on the paper clipped down, “Would you like to see your family?” The male doctor asked when the other one stood.

He continued, “It’s visitation hours. Your family might be here wanting to see you.”

“They want to see me?” Harry meekly questioned, unbelieving that someone was actually longing to give an encounter to him. To smile, and to talk with him for a straight hour, that would be a bliss. It was the first day afterall, they would probably want to check in on him. 

“I didn’t eat breakfast. Wait- how long was I supposed to be in here? How long was I in here?”

“You were in here for fifteen plus hours. We came in multiple times to try to release you, but you got very violent every time we came in.”

Harry pulled in his brows with wide eyes, “I don’t remember that?”

“Most likely because we gave you an antiarrhythmic injection to even your heart rate, then injected you with adenosine which caused you to instantly fall asleep.” They were silent for a few seconds, “How do you feel physically?”

“My head is pounding. My arms and balls are sore.”

“Well, we’ll get some techs in here to get you out of that. I know sometimes it can be uncomfortable, according to some patients,” before exiting with the female staff, the doctor turned and asked, “Would you like to visit your family?”

“Are they here?”

“We’ll check to see-” the staff looked over to mumble a “60921”, then turned back, “But if they are, would you like to see them?”

Harry considered, “Sure.” He shut the heavy door behind him, then of sitting in the very same spot for ten minutes, Harry lifted his head from it resting on the wall to two technicians strutting toward him. The white light was shaded by the two men’s bodies, who pulled Harry onto his stomach. They tugged at something in the back, then slipped off the lower section of the piece. Harry undid his arms from the tight bondage, and smally grinned from feeling the free loose.

They ordered Harry to follow them, with one conducting the route to the visitation center, and the other one taking a soft hold of his upper arm. They walked for several minutes, with psychiatrists walking by with papers, and Harry even took a brief glimpse of the entrance door of the facility then huffed.

They arrived, and delayed at the door as they called out the number, “60921.”

His mother and sister, who were perched on two individual chairs, swinged their heads over to Harry’s direction. Harry didn’t have a sense of thrill churn inside of his stomach, neither a hint of joy. His eyelids went down, feeling more sadness creep upon him now that his relatives were here.

The tech by his arm led him to the table they sat at, then left with Harry standing. From a few seconds of staring, he took a seat on the chair beyond them. 

“Baby.. How are you feeling?” his mother thoughtfully asked, bringing her hand to hold her son’s own. Harry was overthrown by a massive wrench of grief, shame, and hatred in his upper abdomen. He gazed at the table until his eyesight was vague. His stare was empty and he didn’t flinch whenever his mother said his name.

Harry mildly banged his head onto the table. Anne and Gemma exchanged puzzled glances, “Harry.. Are you okay?” his sister spoke shyly.

“Somebody kill me,” Harry casually voiced. His hair slept on the table and he punched at his knee, “Kill me, please!” his throat was beginning to quiver from the amount of yearn filled in that adjure. 

“Harry..” Anne whispered with pitying eyes as Harry stood forcefully from his chair. Techinchines looked over as well as other nurses. A lady nurse stepped to Harry to ask, “What’s the matter, honey?”

“I don’t really want to be here. I wanna kill myself,” he replied then kicked weirdly at the nurse’s knee. She backed away somewhat while technichines marched toward Harry, and they grabbed his arm.

“I’m not doing nothing. Stop. Let go of me you bitch,” he swept his arm the tech’s way.

“You have to stop this behavior, okay? Sit back down with your visitors,” they strictly ordered, “Go on.”

Harry glanced over at his pushed out chair, “Yeah.. No. I don’t want to be here. I wanna go.”

“He told me that he wants to kill himself,” The nurse lowered her volume a pinch.

Harry scowled, “Don’t tell them you bitch! What the fuck?” His body went to her, but was then stopped by one of the tech’s brawny hands.

“We need you to behave, okay?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to be here!” Harry whined, “I don’t wanna! It makes me sick. I hate it here! Get me out, please,” water misted Harry’s eyes. He had the feeling of distress and temper, and so he started to cry pathetically.

“Would you like to take a look around outside?” The nurse suggested, taking her hand to rub on Harry’s shoulder as Harry pursued to quietly cry on the other side of his hands. The nurse stepped with Harry who apologized over and over again for calling her that gross name. She smiled at him, saying that everything will be okay once they’re outside.

It wasn’t that radiant on the exterior of the building, but it was very amiable for Harry to feel the chilling air coming past through his sweatshirt sleeves. He could perceive that the medication he consumed from earlier was acting up, thus burying away his insanely low mood and odd behavior.

His bare feet were soothed by the velvety grass, which they massaged in often. His hair was puffed in the opposite direction by the wind. His face gave into the cool air and how it drove past his ears harshly. His body took in every shiver it obtained by the wind, and finally there were crinkles forming by his eyes.

Harry then put his arms out from his sides, and grinned widely. For a split moment, he felt like he was in the garden; free, over the moon and contended.

He giggled, “I love this. I love it out here,” he commented, looking over at the nurse who stood grinning at the patient.

“It’s not very sunny, but it feels free.. To me,” He took an inhale of the spicy, fresh air through his nose. Soon, it was dinner time, and the kind nurse led Harry into the cafeteria, and informed some staff members, and techs. Harry acquired his dinner (which was sliced carrots and beef stroganoff), then sat with a girl patient who kept clawing at her face. It was strange, but he finished his food. Because of that, he was later rewarded with a crunchy cookie folded inside a napkin in his room.

He ate the treat while plastering an exalted smirk on his face. In his room, he took a quick cat nap, then lined up with several patients to take nighttime medication. Most of the patients who were infected with insomnia, bipolar disorder or OCD were hyped to take them, which included Harry, but he did not outwardly show that he was.

Eventually, when patients were settled in the common room, the antidepressants expired from inside of Harry’s system. Therefore, his low mood welcomed themselves in again, making Harry’s eyes sad, and his walk eccentrically deliberate. 

Harry planted himself solely at a singular table with some colorful crayons, and toothed textured paper. He presumed it would make somebody proud if he drew out his up-to-date emotions. He sketched a black hole, with stars circling around it. Then spelt out:

‘I wish I were here, but I already am. It’s confusing. I feel everything then nothing.’

Then a staff member questioned what he was doing all by himself. Harry shrugged, “I don’t really mind being alone. I kinda like it.”

“It is very crucial to get some social wellness involved as well,” she stood with her fingers intertwined.

“I haven’t really had therapy yet though. I slept in the quiet room for a long time,” Harry slowly drew in his words that were short and easy. It made the energy to speak a little less challenging.

“How long?”

“Fifteen plus hours is what the doctor told me. I don’t know who my therapist is yet,” he looked at his drawing. She paused, and studied his drawing. She then leaned in with her wrist inclined onto the table.

“I get it. Many patients feel the same way you do,” She eyed him and so he turned his head, “What’s your name?’

“I’m Harold. This is my second day here.”

“I’m Sylvia. How did your first day go? You mentioned that you were in the quiet room for a while?”

“I was, yeah. I had an attack. My disorder, it’s called IED and I hate it. It worsens my other disorders, and it makes me so angry, and I hurt people and myself,” he turned down his head in remorse as tears stung at his waterline. He watched him toy with the yellow crayon as the staff consoled him.

“I am extremely sorry for you, Harold. It must be very challenging to bear with your many disorders, but you're alive and you are going to be healed.”

“Yeah, but.. If I were alone.. Somewhere else, I’d just know that I wouldn’t be alive right now,” He revealed the scars haggard on his wrists, “I don’t know why it didn’t kill me the first time.”

The staff member crumbled her face in pure sympathy, “The first time?”

“I was at my parents house. It was recent.. A couple months ago. Dad told me to take the dog out so he could.. Use the bathroom. I then went into the shed and looked for a rope. I found a plastic one which really hurt my neck. I was about to die but dad lifted me before I could.”

Sylvia could see that water droplets were falling to his white pants, so she patted his back, “There will be an end. I promise you.”

He nodded, then sniffled, “Okay.”

After the encounterment, Harry gave the drawing to Sylvia, which she then handed it back to him on his way to his room, “Keep this to show your therapist, okay?” And Harry lined his lips in a grin. It was bedtime for the entire building, especially so when a nurse called out, “Light’s out!”

Harry’s room went fully black, as he laid there clutching onto the sheets with his eyes open.


End file.
